Date: Wed, 03 Mar 2010 21:29:51 +0000
From: paxos@hushmail.com
Subject: London Victoria - part 3

Charles Fox sits on a bed.  On a bright red duvet cover bearing the
crest of Manchester United.

Above the bed is a bookshelf.  There are five trophies of various
sizes.  Two are in the shape of silver footballers.  The other
three: tennis or perhaps badminton.

There are books.  Mostly annuals.  Comics.  Some novels.  From
where he sits he cannot make out the titles.

There is a small flat screen TV on a pine chest of drawers.  To the
side is an Xbox 360 and three games in boxes edged in lime green.

There is a poster of a snarling wrestler on one wall.

Below the window there is a blanket box.  Out of the window a train
is passing.  The passengers are quite distinct.

There is a small desk with a red angle-poise lamp.  There is a
chair by the desk.  On the back of the chair there is a pair of
black school trousers folder over a blazer.  There is a shirt.

On the floor there is a pair of school shoes.  And a pair of socks.

"Close your eyes."

Charles Fox closes his eyes.

He can hear the rumble of another train.  He can hear movement.
The bed jolts.

"Shit.  Sorry."

Time passes.

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

Silence.

Charles Fox opens his eyes.

By the socks there is a pair of boxer shorts.

"Well, well."

Charles Fox looks at the boy.  "You're shivering."

"I'm freezing."

"Your just nervous."

Silence.  A train passes, but the boy is not facing the train.

"Are you going to put your hands by your side?"

Sunshine breaks through the clouds and streams into the room,
gilding the boy.

"That's better."

---

Charles Fox never eats at MacDonald's.  The boy has to order for
him.

"Two double quarter pounders.  Large.  Coke.  What drink do you
want?"

"Do they serve tea?"

"Tea?   You crack me up.  Tea, yeah they do it."

They sit among plastic and the boy wolfs down his burger.

Charles Fox is smiling at him.

"What you smiling at?"

"You."

"You're crazy."

"Says the boy who...."

There is scraping of chairs and a clatter of trays.

Charles Fox leans forward.  "You have some on your chin."

Dillon blushes bright pink and quickly raises a napkin.

Charles Fox sees relief on the boys face.

He smiles.

"Ketchup, you fool.  Just ketchup."

---

Comments appreciated.  paxos@hushmail.com